Íll-virki (the ill-doers, criminals): names : Sogthirry (boss), Thraemnir (brain), Gulvi (brawn), Írnjy (negotiator), twins Mámr and Hömr (troublemakers), Hrögr (loan shark) and the only female Neyfn (pimp)
Neyfn (Spicy Ice) Age: 283 Height: 2,6m Race: Jotun Occupation: pimp Patronage: Brothel owner, Protector of her courtesans (Kudos to Valer for making her up)
Hair: Long, gray wavy styled elaborately. Eyes: Blue scleras and white irises Build: on thinner side but still a muscle mommy Clothing: She wears elegant, finely tailored outfits fitting her station as pimp. Often dark-colored with hints of silver, white and red to symbolize power. Horns: one longer than the other
Personality:
Intimidating & Authoritative: Her presence commands respect, and she has an air of cold detachment when it comes to those who step out of line. Protector of Courtesans: Despite her intimidating persona, Neyfn fiercely protects her workers and strives to improve their lives. Ambitious & Calculating: Raised from the ranks of a courtesan, she is now the powerful owner of a brothel and works tirelessly to secure a better future for herself and her employees. Clever & Resourceful: Not one to shy away from the darker corners of society, Neyfn has used her cunning to take control of the brothel and has made it her personal mission to ensure the protection and well-being of the women and men who work there. (edited)
Neyfn (Spicy Ice) Age: 283 Height: 2,6m Race: Jotun Occupation: pimp Patronage: Brothel owner, Protector of her courtesans (Kudos to Valer for making her up)
Hair: Long, gray wavy styled elaborately. Eyes: Blue scleras and white irises Build: on thinner side but still a muscle mommy Clothing: She wears elegant, finely tailored outfits fitting her station as pimp. Often dark-colored with hints of silver, white and red to symbolize power. Horns: one longer than the other
Personality:
Intimidating & Authoritative: Her presence commands respect, and she has an air of cold detachment when it comes to those who step out of line. Protector of Courtesans: Despite her intimidating persona, Neyfn fiercely protects her workers and strives to improve their lives. Ambitious & Calculating: Raised from the ranks of a courtesan, she is now the powerful owner of a brothel and works tirelessly to secure a better future for herself and her employees. Clever & Resourceful: Not one to shy away from the darker corners of society, Neyfn has used her cunning to take control of the brothel and has made it her personal mission to ensure the protection and well-being of the women and men who work there.
Hrögr (The Collector) Age: 413 Height: 3.28m (10'9“) Race: Jotun Occupation: Loan Shark Patronage: Enforcer of Debt, Keeper of Oaths (kudos to bear bro)
Physical Description: Hair: Short black hair styled in a traditional chupryna, with a chest-length, messy black beard. Eyes: Glowing gray irises set against dark blue scleras. Build: Towering and broad-shouldered, with bit of belly, Hrögr is an imposing wall of muscle and bulk. Clothing: Traditional viking clothes. Weapon of Choice: A massive mace.
Personality: Cold, authoritative, and methodical, Hrögr ensures debts are paid, no exceptions. Each tooth in his treasure chest marks his work. Though ruthless, he respects courage and honors oaths. He enjoys quiet moments with his pipe but thrives on the fear his name evokes. Methodical & Patient: He never rushes his work. Each debt collected is a ritual, and each tooth taken a trophy. His chest of teeth is both a warning and a testament to his relentless efficiency. Loyal to the Code: Hrögr is a strict enforcer of promises and debts. Break an oath or miss a payment, and he will come knocking—with his mace and a pouch for your teeth. Surprisingly Thoughtful: Outside of his work, Hrögr finds solace in quiet moments, enjoying his long pipe and recounting stories of his life.
Background: Once a warrior of his secluded Jotun village, Hrögr grew disillusioned with their isolationist ways. He sought purpose in the bustling cities, where his strength and cold, calculating demeanor earned him a reputation as a feared enforcer. Over centuries, he honed his craft, becoming a loan shark who ensures debts are paid—one way or another. Hrögr’s “treasure chest” of teeth is a macabre yet personal record of his career, each tooth a reminder of his work.
Reputation: Hrögr’s name is whispered in hushed tones across the city. His appearance at a debtor's door is a chilling sight, yet his methods are fair in their ruthlessness. Though feared, he is respected for his adherence to a strict moral code: “Promises made must be kept, debts owed must be paid.” (edited)
Hrögr (The Collector) Age: 413 Height: 3.28m (10'9”) Race: Jotun Occupation: Loan Shark Patronage: Enforcer of Debt, Keeper of Oaths (kudos to bear bro)
Physical Description: Hair: Short black hair styled in a traditional chupryna, with a chest-length, messy black beard. Eyes: Glowing gray irises set against dark blue scleras. Build: Towering and broad-shouldered, with bit of belly, Hrögr is an imposing wall of muscle and bulk. Clothing: Traditional viking clothes. Weapon of Choice: A massive mace.
Personality: Cold, authoritative, and methodical, Hrögr ensures debts are paid, no exceptions. Each tooth in his treasure chest marks his work. Though ruthless, he respects courage and honors oaths. He enjoys quiet moments with his pipe but thrives on the fear his name evokes. Methodical & Patient: He never rushes his work. Each debt collected is a ritual, and each tooth taken a trophy. His chest of teeth is both a warning and a testament to his relentless efficiency. Loyal to the Code: Hrögr is a strict enforcer of promises and debts. Break an oath or miss a payment, and he will come knocking—with his mace and a pouch for your teeth. Surprisingly Thoughtful: Outside of his work, Hrögr finds solace in quiet moments, enjoying his long pipe and recounting stories of his life.
Background: Once a warrior of his secluded Jotun village, Hrögr grew disillusioned with their isolationist ways. He sought purpose in the bustling cities, where his strength and cold, calculating demeanor earned him a reputation as a feared enforcer. Over centuries, he honed his craft, becoming a loan shark who ensures debts are paid—one way or another. Hrögr’s “treasure chest” of teeth is a macabre yet personal record of his career, each tooth a reminder of his work.
Reputation: Hrögr’s name is whispered in hushed tones across the city. His appearance at a debtor's door is a chilling sight, yet his methods are fair in their ruthlessness. Though feared, he is respected for his adherence to a strict moral code: “Promises made must be kept, debts owed must be paid.”
Írnjy (The Silver Tongue) Age: 365 Height: 3.1m (10'2“) Race: Jotun Occupation: Gang Negotiator
Appearance: Írnjy has sleek, shoulder-length silver hair and piercing violet eyes that seem to see through lies. His lean, muscular frame is clad in elegant yet practical attire, a stark contrast to the gang’s gruff image. His polished silver-tipped horns and faintly glowing runic tattoos exude an air of calculated authority.
Personality: Sharp-witted and persuasive, Írnjy thrives in the art of negotiation. Calm, composed, and utterly unshakable, he can talk his way out of—or into—any situation. Beneath his polished demeanor lies a cunning strategist who values results over sentiment.
Reputation: Known for settling disputes without bloodshed (if possible), Írnjy is the voice of reason in the gang, though his silver tongue hides a ruthless streak when his patience wears thin.
Name: Mámr Frystvak Pronouns: He/Him Birthday: 5.8. (Claims it’s “when the first volcano sneezed.”) Age: 129 (but emotionally somewhere between 13 and “permanently feral”) Alignment: Chaotic Neutral (with bursts of accidental heroism) Language(s): Jotnar, Common, some random insults in all lagunages he learned over the years in the town Height: 267 cm Weight: 390 kg Body Temp: ~5°C (40°F) Physique: Lean but muscular, flexible and wiry – like a sexy ice-bound spider-monkey. Favorite Food: Anything deep-fried or stolen Favorite Drink: Spiked berry mead Favorite Story: When he turned his testicle into a frog. Loves: Explosions, shiny things, being annoying, sexual innuendo, chaos, pink and purple stuff Sexuality: Pansexual Disaster™ Weapons of Choice: Chaos magic, yo mamma jokes, fists, whatever’s nearby and flammable Random Facts: Has a glowing sigil from Sityxx, the God of pain, branded between his shoulder blades. He thinks it's a “spicy birthmark.” Once accidentally turned his left testicle into a small frog. Claims his war cry is “Smash or be smashed!” His bedroom is a chaotic shrine of glitter, bones and plushies.
Personality: Mámr is a living cartoon in a grim world. He doesn’t respect boundaries, etiquette, or the concept of silence. He makes inappropriate jokes at funerals, hits on everything with muscles, and refuses to be serious, no matter how deadly the situation. Beneath the chaos, however, hides a fractured psyche — he’s a man-child at war with himself, afraid of maturity and burdened by expectations he neither asked for nor understands. His jokes are a shield. His libido is a distraction. His chaos? A scream for help in glitter paint.
He is what happens when wild magic, emotional damage and horny jokes all have a lovechild.
Backstory: Mámr was raised in a broken, ice-locked Jotnar tribe that believed in suppressing emotion through tradition and physical discipline. From a young age, he was ridiculed for being “too soft,” “too weird,” or “too sparkly.” So, he leaned into the madness. His awakening as a chaos mage came during puberty — a firework of uncontrolled surges and unfiltered urges. That's when Sityxx took interest. The god placed a mark upon his back, not out of favor, but curiosity. Since then, every spell Mámr casts is a gamble. Sögthirry took him in not out of affection, but because Mámr once blew up a rival gang’s safehouse by trying to light a cigar. Since then, he’s become the gang's wild card — often a liability, occasionally a genius, and always entertaining.
Description when you first see him: You hear him before you see him — an inappropriate joke in a deep, playful voice echoing across the alley. Then he appears: shirtless, his glowing sigil pulsing on his back, wearing tight fur trousers dyed magenta at the edges, with a grin wide enough to scare demons. His long white hair is braided with shiny charms and bones. His eyes sparkle with mischief, and you’re not sure if he wants to fight you, kiss you, or both. He twirls a pink and purple-colored war club in one hand and winks at you with a smirk that says, “I'm either your best night or your last mistake.”
And then he says: “Old lady Frystvak used to say — who doesnt believe in destiny, never snot in the fire… now move, im gonna do magic!” And you should probably duck.
Ill Virki and the Bent Coin Doors The Ill Virki—the charming little collection of thugs, cutthroats, and opportunists—absolutely embraced Coin Bending. Their hideout has bent Jotnar coins embedded into their doors.
To them, it’s both a threat and a badge of identity. A way of declaring: “We spit on your laws.”
Jotnar, whose culture treats coins as sacred tokens of labor and lineage, consider this a deeply personal attack. Many have spilled blood over a single bent coin left in their path.